View full sizeCourtesy of Danyelle DeLongSince Theadore Jones' surgery, health care providers have monitored changes in the condition of his skull.

Theadore Jones has a skull like no other.

Its dents, ridges and gaps are conspicuously clear, so much so that he wears a white baseball cap in prison to avoid explaining it. He also keeps to himself as much as he can, trying to stay out of fights and arguments that could jar his brain.

He's got another year to serve at Northeast Portland's Columbia River Correctional Institution, where he was sent after getting at least his ninth conviction for driving under the influence. His skull fractures resulted from a one-vehicle accident five years ago in which he drove his Jeep into a creek -- an accident he says he doesn't remember.

He and his family worry that the plates in his head are shifting and that he could suffer a second stroke. He worries that he'll die from medical complications, leaving others to explain to his 10-year-old daughter that her daddy died in prison.

Jones, 40, is a medically disabled Army veteran who served in Iraq in 2004 and 2005. He is one of 2,029 self-reported veterans incarcerated in the state prison system in late July -- about 14.3 percent of the department's total inmate population.

Around the country, including Oregon, veterans' advocates are pushing such initiatives as veterans courts and veterans dockets to steer them into substance abuse treatment or other programs instead of prison. Clark County has such a court. So does Klamath County, which was the first in Oregon when it launched in November 2010. Lane County followed suit, and Marion County has a veterans docket.

But if a veteran is convicted of a crime in a place where there is no specialty court for veterans, he goes to jail. Once in, he enters a caged new world where he may have some opportunities that other inmates don't -- or, as in Jones' case, face exceptional challenges.

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The Oregon Department of Veterans' Affairs keeps a running census of veterans incarcerated by the Department of Corrections. Veterans' Affairs officials help veterans get their family benefits fully restored when they are released and work with incarcerated veterans to file paperwork with the VA, said Tom Mann, the administrator of the department's Veterans Services Division.

But, said Mann, veterans in prison "really don't get VA health care." Columbia River doesn't have an infirmary but has health care providers on site from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m., said department spokeswoman Elizabeth Craig.

The Corrections Department "provides extensive primary care onsite at all of our institutions," Craig said. "Our nursing staff engages in more than 1,000 patient care contacts each day statewide," and inmates have another 250 primary care appointments each day with a health care provider, she said.

At Oregon's Snake River Correctional Institution in Ontario, corrections Officer Steve Farrow helps oversee and provide resources to the penitentiary's "veterans club." He helps put together packets with resource information for inmates about to be released, relays individual inmate queries to a county veterans service officer and attends monthly meetings for veterans on the inside. He says it's a rewarding way for him -- a Navy veteran, active in the American Legion -- to serve other veterans.

It's just a fact of life that some veterans commit crimes when they come home, he said. "A lot of it is them coming out of the military and not having anything at home."

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Jones says his vehicle was hit with roadside bombs or rocket-propelled grenades seven times during his tour in Iraq in 2004. He suffered burns pulling a wounded driver from a Humvee. He is rated as having more than 100 percent service-connected disabilities for PTSD, hearing loss, damage to his lower back, traumatic brain injury and damage to shoulder and leg.

He falters and briefly becomes emotional describing the loss of Staff Sgt. Kendall Thomas, who swapped places with him on one mission and was killed in an accident. Jones says he felt for a long time it was his fault that Thomas' family had lost their husband and father, but has dealt with it in counseling. "It's sad that he had to die over there," he said by phone, "but he would have done the same for me."

View full sizeCourtesy of Danyelle DeLong"I could have killed somebody," Theadore Jones says of his drunk driving episodes. "I could have killed myself."

Yet the conspicuous dents and ridges are the result of the massive surgery after a Nov. 2, 2007, car accident near La Grande. According to hospital records, he drove his vehicle off the road and was ejected into a creek, apparently under the influence of alcohol and days after learning that his wife planned to divorce him. Records provided by his sister show he was found submerged and extrication took about 30 minutes. He suffered traumatic brain injury, skull, sinus and clavicle fractures, broken ribs, a lacerated ear and a collapsed lung, among other injuries. He also "presented with altered mental status," a hospital record reports. He currently has difficulty with his short-term memory and keeping up a thread of conversation.

T.J. acknowledges he's made many bad decisions and he regrets them. His docket sheet includes, in addition to the drunken-driving charges, a conviction for resisting arrest, driving while suspended and misdemeanor assault. His ex-wife got a restraining order against him in 2010 and again last year.

Jones says he wants to serve his full sentence, and after that he wants to serve on the same kinds of DUII victim's panels that awakened him to the cost of alcohol abuse. "I could have killed somebody," he said. "I could have killed myself."

But first, he wants to take care of his medical problems. He says he lives in fear of leaving his daughter, who lives with his ex-wife in La Grande, fatherless.

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Veterans courts and dockets are beginning to spread around the country, including Oregon. Klamath County's experience so far has been positive, said Steve Tillson, the treatment court coordinator. So far, the program has admitted 35 veterans and has seven graduates, none of whom has reoffended. An earlier study of Klamath's adult drug court -- a parallel program -- showed the county saved $3 million in incarceration and recidivism costs over three years, he said.

Multnomah County hopes to follow Klamath's example and establish its own veterans court or docket, said Keith Falkenberg, policy and constituent relations liaison for Commissioner Judy Shiprack. He said the county is intrigued by the roles that veteran mentors can play when criminal charges are brought against other veterans. Such mentors, with the blessing of the court, can get veterans to appointments and help with navigating the Department of Veterans Affairs.

Ramsey Sulayman, a legislative associate with the non-profit Iraq Afghanistan Veterans of America, said the recidivism rates in veterans courts are "fairly insignificant" compared to the general prison population.

The community should see cost savings too, said Linda Maddy, the Portland VA Medical Center's veterans justice outreach coordinator. Maddy, who advocates for veterans courts around the state, performed a case study using a veteran in the justice system. Because he continued to receive medical care and therapy from the VA over a five-month period, the Oregon Health Plan or Medicaid avoided paying $7,437 for his treatment, she said.

Matt Stiner, who heads Justice for Vets, an Alexandria, Va., nonprofit that advocates for veterans courts, said such courts offer a way for veterans to find and sustain the mental health care they may need. Once they're behind bars, he said, it's much harder.

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Jones' wish is to be cared for by the VA, but he understands that the agency cannot treat incarcerated veterans. He says he gets conflicting medical advice -- and less specialized care -- from the people who monitor his condition at Columbia River. But he is stuck -- unable to penetrate the department's bureaucracy. The situation is "frustrating," he says.

Jones was interviewed in person and by phone. His sister, Danyelle DeLong, has become a fierce advocate for him, along with her husband, former Portland police Officer Mark DeLong.

"I'm just scared my brother is going to die," said Danyelle DeLong, who has contacted prison officials, legislators, veterans advocates and everyone she can in an effort to see that Theadore -- or T.J. -- gets the medical care he needs.

Corrections officials say they can't discuss the case of an individual inmate. But department spokeswoman Craig said that when an inmate's medical needs surpass the department's ability to provide care, "outside medical care is accessed." Jones has been taken off-site for an imaging appointment, but he and his sister say other care has come inside the prison. And they are skeptical that the Corrections Department is equipped to handle the complexity of his case.